


Diplomacy

by Chaos_Silk (CrimsonChaos)



Category: Arc the Lad: Twilight of the Spirits
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonChaos/pseuds/Chaos_Silk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first step towards peace is not killing each other, the second step is not strangling your allies when they embarrass you during peace talks. A ficlet series centered around the diplomatic incidents and misunderstandings between the humans and deimos after the Twilight of Spirits. Updates Saturdays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Maru Protests

**Author's Note:**

> So, I finally got my hands on a copy of End of Darkness and, while it wasn't as bad as I thought it was, it was still kind of a trainwreck. The only thing I really took away from it was how fun the council meeting between Ganz and the Deimos looked and that we probably missed some really fun diplomatic events in the five year time skip. So instead of wasting time both playing and acknowledging that that game exists, I decided to write those scenes.

It was the first day of the peace talks, the representatives from each country and deimos tribe had been introduced and then were allowed a couple hours to eat, mingle and get to know each other without the formalities. For the most part, the Deimos were sticking to one side and the humans to the other, each eying the opposite side warily as if expecting an attack. The only exceptions were Kharg and Darc, who were seated next to each other because if they were in the same room they unwillingly gravitated to each other and stayed there because the first to walk away was the first one to admit defeat. The only concession they made to the divide was to sit in the exact center of the room, right on the imaginary line that divided up the two races.

Darc was wearing what he normally did, because the only piece of formal clothing the Deimos recognized was either a crown or one of the great spirit stones; neither of which, Kharg had informed him, were appropriate. Kharg had been forced into a white and gold elaborately decorated uniform, likely a relic from his grandfather's days, a ceremonial sword that would be absolutely useless if a real fight broke out hanging at his hip. He had foregone the food in favor of looking over some paperwork that had been handed to him before the meeting started, though any observer would catch him stealing a morsel or two from Darc's plate whenever the other wasn't looking.

Twenty minutes into the break, after Maru had been chased away from the buffet table for hoarding all the fruit, he approached them, complaining loudly about how his shoes hurt his feet, his clothes itched and why did he have to wear them again. From her corner with the other delegates, Savina looked on, mortified. Kharg glanced at him, one eyebrow half-raised, biting his lip to hold back the laughter he knew was coming; Darc showed no such restraint.

Maru huffed at both of them, crossing his arms and looking away, towards the Deimos side of the room. "None of the deimos are wearing shoes. I shouldn't have to wear shoes either." Maru continued, ignoring Darc's indignant glare -he was wearing shoes-. Kharg choked, one hand rising to cover his mouth as he exchanged looks with Darc.

"Deimos don't need shoes." Darc snarled, drawing himself up and glaring down at Maru, which predictably had as much effect as it would if he had done the same thing to Kharg. Before his twin could point out the obvious contradiction, Darc elbowed him in the ribcage, hard.

"I don't need shoes either. Or clothes. " If Kharg hadn't been too busy rubbing the place Darc had elbowed him, he could have prevented Maru from shredding his shirt. Darc watched with amused horror as Maru started removing bits of clothing.

"Maru." Kharg sighed, one hand rising to cover his eyes as if to shield himself from what was happening. "You have to wear your clothes." Never again would he make the mistake of assuming that the deimos were the ones who were going to have problems adjusting and start a scene; he should have known better. Maru was the closest thing he had to a best friend. "Princes always wear their clothes." He implored, recalling the tired old line his mother had used to keep him in his when he was younger and prone to wandering around without a shirt.

"But..." Maru was interrupted not by Kharg's glare, but by Savina jerking him up by the arm and dragging him out of the conference hall.


	2. The King of the Lakelta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing with the Lakelta has always bothered me, I mean, it's one of the few scenes in the game where you see that yes, the Deimos kind of are assholes, but also Kharg just killed off three of the potential leaders and it's never mentioned again -along with the bug people in Darc's story, whose name I cannot remember how to spell-. So, I wanted to do something with them.

The Lakelta were the last of the Deimos to join the talks, their King arriving in person to handle negotiations. A rarity because most tribes either had their leader killed and replaced during the last war . Whenever the topic came up, most Deimos stopped answering, changed the subject or, in Darc's case, picked a fight with Kharg so he didn't have to answer. The Lakelta King towered over all the other delegates, standing at nearly ten feet tall, he was older than at least half of them as well, scales faded and ragged.

The first words he ever spoke to the gathering were direct and mournful. "My sons were killed when our home was destroyed, there was no one else who could come." He looked around the room, meeting the eyes over every delegate calmly and evenly. He paused only once and only for a breath on Kharg who looked simultaneously apologetic and confused, then he sat down looking like an adult sitting in a toddler's chair.

Darc elbowed Kharg in the gut to get his attention in what he thought was a 'subtle' way. Kharg intercepted without thinking, hand resting on Darc's elbow as he continued to stare at the Lakelta King. Darc rolled his eyes. "You should try your diplomacy thing with him."

He was trying to be a good brother and point out that maybe opening negotiations with the one deimos in the room who didn't have a very good reason to hate humanity. Instead Kharg acted like he had dumped a bucket of cold water drawn from a swamp over his head, slowly turning his head and staring at him with his eyes wide. This was an expression he hadn't seen before, he'd seen the minor version, when Kharg accidentally knocked something -or, on one memorable occasion, someone- over. This was regret and apology and 'oh shit' rolled up into one and it was priceless. He immediately realized his mistake and faced forward, ignoring Darc.

Darc leaned closer as Tatjana stood up and started the opening speech, raising an eyebrow. "What did you do?" He asked, lips practically brushing Kharg's ear. It was no surprise that his brother swatted him, fist connecting right with his nose and forcing him back. Kharg shot him a glare that could have frozen boiling water.

"Not the time." He hissed, sounding eerily like a cat about to bite, eyes narrowed in a way that said if Darc wanted to walk out of here unbruised, he would drop it. Kharg was much, much better at 'accidentally' causing injury than he appeared to be and normally Darc would respect that. However, he was also his brother and he had found a weak point, like hell he was walking away.

They stared at each other for a beat, and for a moment some of the other delegates, who were not watching their every movement, -oh no, not at all- thought they were either going to kiss or bite their heads off. Then Darc smirked and edged back so he wasn't literally in Kharg's face. "Tell me." He demanded loudly, catching the attention of everyone in the room.

"It's nothing." Kharg growled at him. Darc's eyes darted between him and the Lakelta king, and finally it clicked. Once again he was in Kharg's personal space, nudging him with his elbow.

"You had something to..." He started to say as Kharg started to snarl, only to be interrupted by the topic of his next sentence. "My sons," The Lakelta King spoke, looking first Darc and then Kharg in the eye. His voice was weary and tired, neither twin doubted that he knew what really happened. "... were killed in an accident. My daughters will grow up in a world where they will not have to fear humans." He said with an air of finality. Like children who had just been scolded, Darc and Kharg edged away from each other, falling silent.

The meeting resumed. Nothing more was said on the subject.


	3. Uncomfortable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, forgot to update this one last week. Completely slipped my mind even though the chapter was written and posted on ff.n. It's a little short, but brought to you by my best friend who really wanted to see the boys being uncomfortable.

Maru muffled snickers as Kharg glanced at him, eyes wide and horrified like someone had dropped a bucket of ice down his shirt and it had leaked into his pants. Someone had thrown around the phrase 'walk a mile in his shoes' and the Deimos half of the room had taken it literally, ending with Kharg and Darc switching clothes because they were the only two representatives who were close enough in size to do it. Neither had been able to get out of it, even when they both pulled out their ultimate trump card.

Since Darc had foregone wearing armor Kharg was bare-chested, revealing that he had just as many, if not more scars than his brother. One arm was over his chest, as if he were trying to preserve his modesty, the other hand had a death-grip on the skirt-kilt thing, legs pressed as close together as possible. A part of Maru was tempted to flip the material up -it wasn't like Kharg wasn't wearing underwear-, but every part of him knew that Kharg would hurt him for it.

"You look nice." He assured his friend when Kharg fixed him with a look. As if on cue, Darc walked up to them, moving as though something was crawling up his butt. He glared at Maru, as if it were his fault he was wearing Kharg's clothes, which fit over both scales and spikes, then glanced at Kharg.

With the tact of a true gentleman, Darc announced: "Your tiny shorts are trying to climb into my ass." Kharg sputtered, absolutely mortified and Maru reacted like any best friend would when it was revealed that their sibling had stolen their underwear and forced them into a skirt. He laughed.

He laughed so hard that he didn't even notice when Kharg smacked him upside the head with the hand that wasn't keeping his skirt down. Darc stared at him like he didn't understand why he was laughing, which he probably didn't, but since Kharg was hissing like a wet cat, he joined in. Soon the entire room was laughing, though they didn't know why.


	4. Stalemate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you've seen identical scenarios over and over again, but hey, I like seeing it and I can see this happening so many times when it comes to these people. ... It sadly, is something I'm sure has really happened in real life. Also, double update on AO3 because I forgot to add last week's chapter.

"That's one for my side." Kharg announced, scanning the piece of paper he had picked out of the hat Maru had acquired for this purpose -no one asked where he got it, they were kind of scared to- and then placing it the pile to his left. Darc scowled at him, reaching forward to pick another piece of paper out. Every eye in the room -again, except for Maru who was in the process of acquiring another piece of clothing- was turned towards them, watching their every movement as if they were a snake watching a bird.

Which wasn't all that unusual really, in fact one could almost say it was a daily occurrence because Kharg and Darc were the only two representatives that could get along with either side. It was also why when it came down to a vote, they were chosen to count them out. Kharg wouldn't let Darc get away with anything and Darc would sooner punch Kharg than let him cheat.

"Another for you." Darc spoke gruffly, throwing the scrap in the general direction of Kharg's pile. It missed by about a foot, making him growl a little as if trying to threaten the paper into obeying him -it worked with everything else, except for Kharg who did not count-. Kharg rolled his eyes, sweeping it into the pile with one hand while he reached for another slip with the other.

He stared at it for all of two seconds before shrugging and carefully and deliberately placing the paper scrap onto Darc's pile, as if to say 'look, this is how you do it without making a mess'. Darc punched him in the side, or at least he attempted to, but Kharg stepped almost out of range at the last moment. The look he gave him made Darc want to punch him again, which was prevented by Kharg grabbing his hand and forcing it down.

They grappled for a moment before remembering where they were and what they were doing. They released each other, Kharg moving to straighten his hair and clothes whereas Darc's only acknowledgment was to cross his arms and glare at everyone staring at them as if it were their fault. Technically, he wasn't wrong, but Kharg wasn't giving him the pleasure of being right either.

"That makes it..." Kharg stated, quickly tallying up the votes in his head. He glanced at Darc, Darc glared back. "... a tie, yet again." He sighed out, one hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose as his shoulders slumped. Darc snorted, leaning back in his chair, almost as if he were mocking Kharg, who had chosen to stand.

"One of you is going to give." He addressed the human side, ignoring Kharg's disbelieving stare. He smirked, waving his deimos hand towards the humans in an attempt to intimidate them into doing what he wanted. It might have been more effective if they hadn't chosen at this very moment to avert their eyes, because at this point Kharg usually gave into his rage and punched back.

"Darc." Kharg spoke slowly, dropping into his chair with every ounce of grace he possessed. He wasn't half as irritated as the rest of the room assumed him to be, only mildly amused at the results and how Darc was convinced they were going to change. "Do you even remember what we're voting on?" He looked pained, as though he had sat on a pine-cone or another spiky, painful object, which admittedly was very likely. It wouldn't be the first time Darc had set something on his chair when he wasn't looking, and would not be the last.

Darc thought on it for a moment, seriously considering Kharg's words. It wasn't as rare as he would have liked people to think, Kharg usually was the only reasonable person in the room and he kept a level head during most situations. Darc knew that, and when his own emotions were raging out of control, he knew he could trust Kharg's. Which he felt was dangerous on many levels and lent Kharg a measure of control over him that he would rather throw himself into a volcano than admit out loud to his brother.

A minute passed, every eye in the room back on the pair, still watching, still waiting. Maru had acquired another hat during the wait, proudly perched on his head like the crown around his neck should have been. Kharg was the only one who noticed, and he would be asking pointed questions later, once Darc's drama was done with.

Finally Darc spoke: "Politics?" He said it in a tone that said he wasn't quite sure. As soon s the words were out of his mouth, most of the listeners nodded, as if they had been under that impression as well. Kharg groaned, hand slipping to cover his eyes.

"We're voting on what we want to have for lunch." If there was ever someone who could say that sentence and not imply that he hated everyone in the room, it was Kharg. Darc stared at him, the delegates stared at him, and Maru, well Maru pulled his snack out of his hat and started eating as soon as he heard the word 'lunch'.

"Then why in the hell are there only two options?" Darc demanded, determined not to be wrong. Kharg stared at him, trying to think of a way to phrase 'because everyone wants to band together and pretend they all want the same thing, which is different from what the other side wants and no one wants to admit that maybe it should be an individual choice instead of a racial one'. He gave up and rested his head on the table in front of him.

"Because apparently that is how democracy works." He mumbled into the table, wondering what made him want to volunteer for this job in the first place. They were trying to chance the world, and yet still got caught in the same rut.

"That's stupid." Darc stated, glaring at Kharg as if this were all his fault. It wasn't. He had been the only one who protested when they tried to bring it to a vote. As if on cue, Darc's stomach grumbled. "And when the hell are we eating? I'm hungry." He complained loudly, reopening the entire debate.

It took everything in him for Kharg not to flip the table when the Orcon delegate tried to bring it to a vote. Again. Maru was the only one who ate lunch that day, and Kharg would be taking a page out of his book when the next meeting ran longer than it was supposed to.


	5. Practice Makes Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I think that a lot of things humans do confuse the Deimos, because basically they're still stuck in the hunter-gatherer phase whilst humans are, well arguing over land rights and fuel resources.

"Try again." Kharg stated, one hand over his face as Darc glared at his reflection in the mirror. For the last three hours Kharg had been patiently coaching his brother on how to negotiate peacefully without insulting or threatening the other party. It wasn't going well, but it was still better than what he initially had thought. By his calculations, Darc would be ready to set a diplomatic example for the other Deimos this time next year.

Darc scowled, obviously too proud of himself to stick his tongue out at his brother, but Kharg could still tell the urge was there just like Darc could tell when he wanted to make faces at his opposition. Whenever he felt the urge, he heard his mother's voice in his head reminding him gently that princes did not stick their tongues out at people, it was undignified. He didn't know what ran through Darc's head that kept him from doing it, he probably didn't want to. Kharg moved his hand to watch Darc's movements, quirking an eyebrow because it was taking too long for his brother to start.

"Delegate Maru," Darc began, arms crossed and glaring into the mirror like it was trying to steal his food. "I want..." He paused, looking at Kharg for the answer.

"Medical supplies." Kharg responded after a moment of consideration, searching for a plausible answer. The Drakyr were carnivores, so importing food didn't make much sense. In fact, all of the deimos were self-sufficient to a point. If there was something they needed, they fought for it.

"I want medical supplies." Darc parroted obediently, eyes flicking to meet Kharg's in the mirror. He blinked. "Medical supplies?" He repeated, question obvious in his voice. Kharg sighed.

"Bandages, disinfectant, vaccines and the like." Kharg explained, crossing his own arms as he leaned against the wall behind him. "You'll need it once your supply of spirit stones starts dwindling." Darc stared at him blankly, after bandages he hadn't understood a word Kharg had said.

"The what?" He asked, then rethought. "If I need them, I'll just take them from you." This time it was Kharg's turn to stare and he did, eyebrow raised.

"That isn't how it works." Kharg groaned, wishing he could bang his head into the nearest wall. Or failing that, bang Darc's head into the nearest wall, that sounded much, much more satisfying. "We're trying to prevent a war, not start one."

"How is that starting a war?" Darc demanded, turning so he was facing his brother instead of the mirror. Kharg looked at him like he was a very tiny child throwing a tantrum. "I'm stronger than you-" "No you're not." "-so why shouldn't I take what I want?"

Kharg reminded himself that punching his brother in the face would not teach him anything and would only reinforce his point. "Because you are the leader of the Drakyr and therefore are representing your entire nation, any act you take is thought to have your entire nation's support. I am representing the whole of Nidellia, any action you take against me during the negotiations, especially a violent one, could be taken as a declaration of war. Which, might I remind you, we are trying to prevent, that's the whole point of these negotiations."

"Then how do I get you to give me what I want?" Darc didn't want to deal with all of that, especially when he was having trouble grasping the idea that one person represented an entire tribe instead of one person being in control of the entire tribe. It was entirely different from how the Deimos operated and he wasn't sure he liked it. So he cut straight through to the heart of the matter.

"You ask. Nicely." Kharg emphasized 'nicely' when he spoke, meeting Darc's eyes evenly. Darc scowled at him, waiting for his brother to elaborate. A beat passed, then another, silence filling up the room.

"And if you refuse?" Darc finally growled out when it became obvious that Kharg wasn't going to say any more. He had thought that Kharg's refusal was the obvious conclusion, because his brother liked being difficult and not following his orders like a good sibling should, but apparently Kharg wanted him to say it.

"You offer something in exchange." Kharg stated, like it was as obvious as the nose on his face. Mirroring Kharg's thoughts a couple minutes before, Darc considered the consequences for punching his brother in the jaw for making this more complicated than it should be. Not that it was really Kharg's fault, it was more like negotiations were more convoluted than he was used to and every delegate had agreed that violence was to be the absolute last resort. Darc just found it easier to blame him for it.

And as long as they weren't in public -Darc had yet to figure out what Kharg defined as 'public'-, he was willing to exchange blows and beat the hell out of each other. Which admittedly would be more satisfying if Kharg would let him win once in a while, but Darc would take what he could get. He didn't understand why that was allowed and didn't end up with their nations declaring war on each other, but a small scuffle in the dining hall could.

Kharg raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for something else. Obviously Darc wasn't going to get out of it that easily, once he started on something it practically took an a war to change his mind. "And if you refuse that?" Darc growled.

"Then you can punch me in the face." Kharg responded without missing a beat, his tone warm and amused. Darc knew that tone and didn't respond, staring Kharg straight in the eye as he snorted. He had been listening the last three times, and that didn't fall in with what Kharg had been saying before. Kharg sighed. "Then you offer something else and if that doesn't work, then maybe someone else has what you want and is willing to trade for it."

"I like the first option better." Darc insisted. "Of course you do." Kharg said. However, something about the way he said it didn't sit right with Darc. He eyed his brother, trying to infer what he meant before giving up and throwing the first punch. Instead, he decided it would be easier to at least attempt what Kharg was babbling on about.

Carefully hiding his grin, Darc turned around on his heel to face the mirror. "Delegate Maru," he started, pretending to practice like he had been before they had started down this road. "In exchange for medical supplies, whatever that is, I will punch Kharg in the face because I know you like it and will not refuse." As he finished speaking, he smirked proudly.

Instead of reacting to his proclamation like he thought he would, Kharg groaned, hands slashing through the air like he wanted to throttle the life out of Darc. "Once again," he said with an air of long suffering. "That isn't how it works."


	6. Diplomatic Immunity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So let's just pretend I got this up on Saturday and go on with our lives, ok? Ok. Um, the plastic fruit thing is a bit of an inside joke. I think I have the fic and chat log that spawned it up on my livejournal? Will add a link later if anyone is interested.

"Maru." Kharg said as patiently as he was able, feeling like he had been repeating himself for days on end. Darc trailed behind him, a huge grin on his face; the same grin on every sibling's face when they see the other one in trouble. "What are you doing?" If sainthood had been a thing in this world, Kharg probably would have been nominated for it at least twice by now judging from the evenness of his tone when faced with total chaos.

Maru grinned at him; wide brown eyes looking up at him with an innocence that contrasted with the tattered cloth and mud surrounding him. He was half-sprawled in the ground in front of the United World building, the remnants of what had been one of the banners and covered in mud from where he had torn through the flower patch like a manic squirrel. "Whatever I want. 'Cause I'm a prince and I have diplomatic immunity."

Kharg sighed, palm connecting with his face. He took a moment to count to ten, reminding himself that shouting never solved anything and punting Maru through the window would not only set a bad example, but would cause even more property damage, which he did not want to do. It set a bad precedent.

He opened his mouth to start to scold him, but before he could even start to form the words, Darc interrupted. "That's not how it works." He said, saying the exact sentence Kharg was about to say before he could even say it. Kharg looked at him, one eyebrow raising in question, but he continued: "It's only if you eat something you're not supposed to, like those stupid plastic fruit they keep laying out for some reason."

"Is that why I found you choking on a plastic grape?" Kharg asked before he could stop himself, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth because he had sworn never to utter a word about that incident. Darc fixed him with a look, red eyes unreadable as he elbowed him in the stomach.

"No." He huffed as Maru started cackling. Even he knew better than to touch the decorative fruit, if only because Kharg had threatened him and a cursory glance had shown that it wasn't edible. Or so he'd like them to believe, but there was a fake apple with a bite mark in it that would prove otherwise.

"But, that isn't how diplomatic immunity works either." Kharg said as soon as he regained his breath, wine-dark gaze flicking from his brother to his -unfortunately- best friend and back again. He really wished there was an adult around who would take the responsibility of explaining everything away from him and allow him a moment's peace, but with his luck that adult would just be another headache.

"Then how the hell does it work?" Darc snapped, glaring at Kharg like it was his fault he was trying to eat the plastic fruit -why did they even have it anyway?-, and in Darc's world it probably was too, with a reasonable explanation and everything. One that would fall apart as soon as he said it out loud to Kharg, but it counted until his brother poked holes through it.

"It just means that you can't be prosecuted or arrested when visiting another country." Kharg said, really, really wishing for a distraction. Unfortunately, both Darc and Maru regarded him with blank looks, not an unusual occurrence by far. They exchanged a glance, then spoke as one:

"What does that mean?" Kharg groaned, shoulders slumping in defeat as he realized that, once again, Maru's punishment would be delayed by an explanation of why it was wrong and why he shouldn't do it. He knew better than to think that it would ever have any effect on Maru's behavior -as proven with the shoes and the food stealing-, but some things had to be curbed before they become really destructive. Maru had been alone in the wilderness for so long that it was a wonder he could even talk civilly to people and Darc, well Darc was raised by Deimos and they dealt with crime in an entirely different manner.

"It means that the guards aren't allowed to bother you when you do something small- like throwing mud all over someone's clean sheets or stealing someone's book before they're done reading it." Kharg stated with as much patience as he could muster. Darc glared at him, Kharg rolled his eyes skyward and added: "And yes, it does allow you to get away with eating plastic fruit, not that you _should_ be eating it."

"Told you." Darc said proudly, crossing his arms, all but preening himself as he loomed over Maru. Kharg kicked him in the shin, ruining his dramatic posing, rolling his eyes again.

"It doesn't let you get away with it without being yelled at though." Kharg sighed, unconsciously mirroring Darc's actions moments before, fingertips brushing the birthmark on his arm. "It just means there won't be any official repercussions for destroying the flowerbeds and tearing-is that Nidellia's flag?" Kharg hissed the last part, eyes narrowing dangerously as he finally noticed the colors of the bits of cloth scattered about Maru.

"Um..." Maru glanced around, having just realized which flag he had accidentally torn from the pole and shredded while making a huge mess of the garden's perfectly tended flowerbeds. He grinned up at Kharg, who had flipped from patiently explaining to looking like he was about to kick Maru through the nearest window -and he could, Maru had seen him do it to a couple monsters during their adventure-. Darc stood behind him, grinning in such a way that it showcased every single fang in his mouth.

"Yes?" Maru ventured an answer just in case that admitting it calmed Kharg down. Typically, Kharg wasn't violent outside of battle unless someone -Darc- provoked him to the point where he couldn't take it any longer and that normally took a lot of rough-housing and touching before he snapped and almost broke Darc's arm. Maru didn't think he would be in any danger, but it was a reminder that yes, if Kharg wanted to, he could bodily lift him up and throw him.

The glare Kharg fixed him with was enough to convince him that he really, really wanted to so maybe Maru should do something else before Kharg's anger overwrote his moral duty not to strangle the life out of his friends. Darc sidled closer to his brother, laying one hand on his arm in an attempt to restrain or console him. Maru saw his chance and took it.

Within a heartbeat, Maru was up and running for his life. Darc accidentally tightened his grip on Kharg's arm when he tried to take off after him, keeping him at his side. Quick as a snake, Kharg whirled around to face, lips curled up in a snarl as his free hand rose into prime punching position. Red eyes widening, Darc let him go, and Kharg was off like a shot.

While Maru might be able to attack the fastest out of his group, he wasn't exactly known for his running speed. Kharg, on the other hand, had to be able to cover more ground in a shorter amount of time, as the primary healer and attacker. The head start Darc had accidentally given him was barely enough to keep Kharg from tackling him immediately.

"You can't touch me, I have diplomatic immunity!" Maru screamed as Kharg got within tackling distance. Being that he was running for his life, he didn't see the look of amusement pass over Kharg's face.

"So do I." Kharg growled, speeding up just enough to tackle him to the ground, bodies connecting with a thud that made Darc wince. They collided and fell into the carefully maintained rose bushes, Maru screeching like Kharg was killing them. Darc watched with a mixture of horror and bemusement as the wailing increased, joined by Kharg's cursing.

Finally the bushes stopped shaking and Kharg rose triumphant from the bushes, Maru slung over his shoulder. He turned to look at the tall glass windows decorating the entrance of the building, then decided that that was a thought best kept in his head. Another glass-like shimmer caught his eye and he smirked, the expression on his face sending chills down Darc's spine.

Kharg shifted and suddenly Maru was flying through the air, shrieking like Kharg was still aiming for the windows, landing in the pond in the center of the garden with a splash. Some of the water hit Darc, but he was too busy laughing to care, whereas Kharg was standing at the edge of the pool, proud and triumphant. 


End file.
